The Greater Good
by alleaf
Summary: Six months ago, Rose's life had been perfect: great job, loving boyfriend, and crazy family—until Scorpius inexplicably tells her, "I don't love you anymore." Now, she's trying to be strong and move on, except strange things are happening: heads-of-security tailing her, a possible scheme of geopolitical terrorism, and... her dad having lunch with her ex-boyfriend? Post-Hogwarts.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK Rowling.

**Prologue**

_(December 31, 2026)_

The Italian man tugged at the unfamiliar serving robes, discreetly surveying Malfoy Enterprises' New Year's Eve party. Extravagant decorations, expensive alcohol, and live music from Wizarding Britain's hottest band of the moment: the entire scene reeked of privilege—not that the dark-haired wizard was surprised. If Fazzino himself had access to Scorpius Malfoy's influence and fortune, he'd be spending it in quite a similar fashion.

Raphael Fazzino busied himself with tidying up the desserts table (his assigned station of the night) while surreptitiously observing the wizard in question. As CEO of the multi-national technology empire, Malfoy would be integral to their plans. His desire to cooperate mattered not; Fazzino could be very persuasive.

An elderly witch was speaking at a nearby table. "Has Miss Weasley spoken to you about donating to—"

"You mean Malfoy's girl? Don't bring that up, _Mother_. She spent ages talking about it earlier. As if I care! Thank Merlin I don't have the bleeding heart of a Weasley," snapped the table's other occupant.

"Oh hush, Hilda! Are you really that cruel? Those poor Italians. I can't believe the _Prophet _hasn't reported any of it! Not the poverty, not the unemployment rates—nothing!" She went quiet for a moment. "You don't think the Italian Ministry will actually go bankrupt, do you?"

_No. He wouldn't allow that to happen_, thought Fazzino as a dull pain burned through his uniform pocket. Annoyed, he gritted his teeth, completely caught off guard. Fazzino knew that the searing sensation could only be caused by the token, but he was surprised that they would contact him during a mission. Was he wanted back at headquarters already?

"Sir, are you all right?"

Fazzino's head snapped up, startled. Staring up at the petite redhead, he only just realized that he'd been clutching his side quite forcefully. He cleared his throat and plastered on a smile. Rose Weasley was one of the few British witches who gave a damn about his country. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Hilda, red-faced, dragging her mother away from them.

Fazzino nodded to Rose. "Yes, thank you, I'm fine." His English accent was flawless. "Just a childhood injury. The Healers were never able to completely fix it."

"Oh—I'm sorry to hear that. Do you need anything? Some ice, perhaps?" She grinned. "Or maybe some Firewhiskey?"

Fazzino smiled, hiding his surprise. "I really am fine, Miss."

"Well, if you're sure..." She extended a hand. "I'm Rose."

Fazzino shook her hand. "Rob Samuels. This is a great party you've hosted, Miss."

Her lips curved as if at an inside joke. "Oh, believe me, my boyfriend is the far better host. He's a natural at this sort of thing. I'm really only here for the food," she said, winking.

Fazzino chuckled, and as Rose examined the vast assortment of sorbets, casually said, "Honeydew's been a popular one. Although, if you're feeling adventurous, I recommend the persimmon sorbet. I think you'd like it. You seem to enjoy dessert much more than Mr. Malfoy does." The Italian repressed a scowl. He hadn't been able to get close to Malfoy all night.

Rose laughed. "Oh no, you've been misled, Rob! Scor's even worse than I am when it comes to dessert! I'm surprised he hasn't dropped by yet. He's probably just..." She scanned the room, her eyes lighting up after mere moments. "_Oh_, he's talking to Minister Turner," she said, her voice slightly duller.

This was old news to Fazzino, but he made a show of following Rose's gaze. The two men were seated at a table in the far corner of the room, the blond looking perfectly at ease as he conversed with the British Minister. Fazzino was impressed; the only time he would ever want to speak with Otto Turner was if Unforgivable curses were involved.

Rose arched an eyebrow as Turner suddenly burst into guffaws, but returned her attention to the dessert spread. "There are actually lots of interesting people here, Rob. For instance—_Oh Merlin!_"

The redhead looked horrified, and Fazzino immediately began to scope out the situation. He relaxed at the sight of a garishly dressed woman engaging in a sort of mating ritual with her paunchy companion, but even he could admit the sight was a bit unnerving.

"That shouldn't be _legal_. Oh, the risks of throwing a party," Rose lamented.

Fazzino couldn't agree more.

Rose sighed. "So tell me, Rob, are you sure that childhood injury of yours isn't still being a pain?"

"Nothing that will impede my ability to work, Miss." A slight lie—he still felt the token's aftershocks.

Rose shook her head and grinned, her eyes sparkling with a plan. "Well, _I_ think you should get some rest. You look like you could use the night off—especially since it's New Year's Eve."

"But this is my job…"

"Don't worry." Her smile was warm. "I'm sure our guests will be fine without you. I'll take care of any problems."

He nodded slowly. He was certain she meant speaking to that grouchy supervisor he'd met earlier. No one who worked for Malfoy Enterprises would dare question Rose Weasley, so his cover would be safe. It really was the perfect getaway opportunity.

And yet he couldn't ignore the slight guilt that was forming in his stomach. Miss Weasley wouldn't be quite so kind to him if she knew their true plans...

He shook himself mentally. This was for the greater good. They simply had too few other allies, and even less time.

Fazzino smiled. "Thank you, Rose. Have a happy new year." While he knew the sentiment would likely ring false for the redhead, he was confident his fellow Italiani _would_ enjoy a very happy new year. He'd make sure of it.

* * *

><p>AN: Hi there. Thank you for reading and I hope you're at least intrigued enough to leave me a review about what you think! I know this doesn't make much sense right now, but it will soon (I hope)!


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK Rowling.

**Chapter One**

_Knock, knock, knock._

Merlin, make it _stop._ Rose was positive it wasn't yet a socially acceptable hour to disturb her slumber.

"Rose?" More knocking. "Are you in there?"

The witch in question groaned. If she didn't answer, would the disruption go away?

"Rose!"

Hmm, didn't look like Felix Felicis was on her side this morning.

Reluctantly, Rose lifted her head off of—oh, when did those papers get there?

"Rose! I swear to Merlin if you don't…" The voice outside was starting to sound vaguely familiar, and it didn't seem to be leaving any time soon. She blinked groggily.

_Had she really spent the entire night in her office?_

"That's it, I'm blasting down your door. Dad's given me some basic curse-breaker training, so prepare to be—"

Rose, exasperated, flicked her wand twice. As expected, the door swung open to reveal her cousin Dom. "Oh good, so you _are _in here!" she said brightly. "Your security wards are pretty impressive, you know."

Dominique Weasley was the type of witch who just naturally exuded that I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-but-I-still-look-fantastic vibe. So when the blonde strolled into Rose's office in a scarlet mini-dress, seeming to have just stepped out of the pages of _VogueWitch_, the auburn-haired witch had but to take one glance at her impossibly gorgeous cousin to decide that there was just no way she was up to facing the world that day.

Rose wondered if her boss would accept that as a valid excuse.

"Wake up, honey. I come bearing gifts!" said Dom, brandishing two coffee cups and a delicious-smelling paper bag.

Rose grimaced at her cousin's chipper tone, but she couldn't help perking up at the sight of food. A girl just couldn't turn down breakfast, you know? "You're not usually this cheerful in the morning."

The blonde sighed dramatically. She pushed one of the cups towards Rose. "Oh, but I have a reason to be today! I'm just so happy to escape Lucifer."

Rose snorted. "You mean _Lucy_?"

"Ugh, yeah, whatever her name is." She waved a well-manicured hand dismissively. "She just—"

"You know, I heard a rumor she might be our cousin—"

"—decides to drop by this morning, completely unannounced, even more inconsiderate than usual—"

"Well, only because you still won't give her Floo access."

"That's irrelevant. And Daddy always says to only open our Floos to people we trust." There, Rose smirked. "Anyways, neither Al nor Louis got up to answer the damn door—lazy arses—so _I_ had to, and it turns out that she was there looking for you!"

"Me?"

"Yeah, because you weren't at your flat."

_Damn it_. "Er, yeah… Huh, I just—I lost track of time at work, that's all."

"Rose, are you sure it's not—"

"I'm fine, Dom.

"Oh, come _on_. We both know that just being in that flat—"

But Rose crossed her arms sharply. "Look, Dom, I appreciate your concern, I really do. It's just that I need to—"

"Yeah, yeah, I _know_. You want to deal with it by yourself. Like always. But you can't—"

Dom stopped, seeming to catch herself. She sighed. "I'm sorry, hon. I know I shouldn't… I don't mean to be overbearing. I'm just worried about you, okay?" At Rose's small smile, she added, "Just remember that you're always welcome to move in with us."

"Thanks, Dom. It's just that…" The redhead wracked her brain for a passable excuse. "Living with one's cousins is just so… lame."

"Um, _excuse me_, honey," said Dom, a perfectly groomed brow arched. "We are _the_ hippest cousins on this side of the world."

"Oh, Merlin. Look at yourself, you actually said 'hippest.'" Rose buried her face in her hands. "I'm doomed…"

Dom snickered. "You know, I had dinner with my parents last night, and I guess Dad's on this weird lingo kick, because he used 'hip' in every freaking sentence! _Say Dommie, don't you think your mum's looking quite hip tonight? Oh hip daughter of mine, would you please pass the salt? _I swear I'm going to hurt whoever gave him that idea."

Rose grinned. "And to think, Uncle Bill's supposed to be the _cool_ one. Though maybe that's not true. I mean, just look at you."

"Whoa, watch it there, ginger! If you keep this up, I might just rescind my offer. You'll never get to move in with us!"

"But Al and Louis are so much more bearable when I'm around," said Rose, angelic face in full force. "And you adore me."

"I know, I know, which is why you need to move in already! I'm sure the rent will be way cheaper for you this way, too." The blonde's brows furrowed in confusion. "I mean, how do you even afford that place?"

Rose sighed. She hadn't told anyone that the penthouse flat was legally hers. Not that she cared about owning some expensive piece of real estate. She didn't even know how to pay the bills for the place! Of course, she knew _he_ was taking care of it, but she couldn't fathom why. Probably out of some misplaced sense that he owed her.

She pushed the thoughts aside. "I suppose you're right. I'll think about it, yeah?"

Dom beamed. "It would be so much fun with the four of us together!"

"Yes, it definitely has potential," agreed Rose, smirking. "Now tell me: why _was _Lucy looking for me?"

"Honestly? Probably because you're the only one in our family who puts up with her—well, besides Roxy, but you know as well as I do that she really just doesn't give a damn about anything—"

"Actually," said Rose, grinning, "Freddie told me she might be seeing someone."

"_Really?_"

"Mhm. Potential investor, you think?"

Dom laughed. "Most likely. We'll have to ask at brunch. It's a shame she isn't interested in anything that doesn't involve running Wheezes."

Rose shrugged noncommittally. "Well, she's Roxy. At least she's drama-free."

"Too true. Polar opposite of Lucifer. Merlin, that girl is so tactless, too. She wanted… ugh, never mind. She's such a bitch."

The redhead simply sighed. "Just tell me, Dom. What did Lucy want?"

Dom was practically fuming. "That _tart_ wanted to badger you at 6:00am to ask for relationship advice! Apparently, she wants to take 'the next step' with McLaggen and figured you could offer some insight!"

Rose cringed. Relationship advice?_ Her?_

She drew in a stunted breath. That was laughable.

Almost cruel, actually, given the circumstances. Perhaps Dom was right about Lucy.

"Yeah, that girl's lacking a few brain cells. So, did _you _talk some sense into her, then?"

"Of course," said Dom airily. "I kicked her bony arse right back out."

* * *

><p>Her cousin left for work not long after, leaving Rose to get ready for her day. Fortunately for Rose, Dom had found her at a reasonably early hour—it was a quarter past seven, the clock read—so the redhead still had time to freshen up and change into a new outfit. Her colleagues gossiped like crazy, and Rose knew they wouldn't pass up a golden opportunity to take a stab at yesterday's clothes.<p>

Actually, Rose wouldn't even be surprised if they snapped a photograph and sold it to the tabloids. People were barmy these days.

Thank Merlin she kept spare clothes in her office.

Rose performed a very handy charm that doubled for a shower and her morning routine. She then slipped into a dark gray sheath dress, dabbed on some concealer, and slid into her favorite Louboutins (thank _you_, Louis!). Peering at a conjured mirror, she declared herself as ready for work as she'd ever be.

An hour later, Rose sat in her supervisor's office, waiting as he read through her proposal—again. The Chief Ambassador of the Department of International Magical Cooperation was nothing if not thorough. Rose stared at him, hoping to speed up the process.

John Holmes was a short, sturdy man whose thick facial hair compensated for a rapidly balding head. He looked more like a Hit Wizard than a man who had helped author a third of the Ministry's foreign policies, but Holmes was shrewd, brilliant, and intimidated, oh, just about everyone in Rose's department.

Well, almost everyone.

She sighed heavily.

"Is the air inside this office not doing it for you? Shall I contact Magical Maintenance?"

"Oh no, no need," said Rose airily. "Don't mind me, I'm fine. Besides, I wouldn't want to distract your attention from such a non-repetitive task."

Holmes rolled his eyes, but remained firmly focused on the parchment in his hands. He'd been Rose's supervisor for over two years, and they had developed quite a solid working relationship, so this sort of behavior was typical.

Annoyingly, repetitively typical.

Sighing, the redhead resigned herself to thumbing through a copy of the day's _Prophet_. She wondered if one of Dom's pieces was being featured…

"Patience is a virtue, Miss Weasley," remarked Holmes. Evidently, five times was the charm. "You're quite passionate about the situation in Italy, aren't you?"

"Someone has to be." She'd been advocating for the Italians for almost a year now.

Holmes sighed wearily. "Miss Weasley, you're only a junior ambassador—and some may say I promoted you too soon—but you're still quite young, so I don't expect you to understand yet. I've seen too many like you: idealistic and bursting with ideas to change the system. However, when you've worked here as long as I have, you become… how do I put this? You become jaded. This Ministry simply doesn't have the resources to help everyone, and don't even get me started on the politics involved."

"Sir, I _understand_," she replied, far from as naïve as her supervisor had suggested. "We're not here to save the world. Just Wizarding Britain's spot within it. But the repercussions of letting the Italians continue their descent into, well, _chaos_ are simply too great to ignore. Surely you see the potential dangers?"

Holmes appraised her for a long moment. "I actually do, Miss Weasley. Your proposal was very well written and well supported. I only spent so long reviewing it to make sure there weren't any… holes for Cartwright to poke at when we present your case to him."

His tone was crisp and efficient, allowing only a hint of a smile to be gleaned. Rose was speechless. He wanted to present _her_ proposal to the Head of the Department? She'd been so sure he was going to write her off entirely, maybe even demote her. "What—I—you—are you serious, sir?"

He rolled his eyes. "Let's go, Miss Weasley. We have a meeting with the department head. Quickly, before I change my mind."

Rose could only beam at him, and when she was ushered into Edward Cartwright's cushy office five minutes later, she had to force herself to don a much more mellowed smile.

"John, Miss Weasley—always a pleasure. What brings the two of you here today?" asked Cartwright. He was a wizard in his early forties—much younger than John Holmes, but he'd played the political system well—and had a penchant for dressing in velvet suits. Today's set was green.

Holmes cleared his throat. "Miss Weasley has written quite an effective proposal that I think you should review."

Cartwright beamed, although Rose noted it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Well, of course! You are your mother's daughter. Greatness is to be expected."

_Don't roll your eyes, don't roll your eyes. _Strangers who sucked up to her parents through her never failed to irk.

This stranger, however, was her boss. "Thank you, Mr. Cartwright," she replied. Following Holmes' lead, she took a seat in one of the leather armchairs facing the oak desk.

"Well," the dark-haired man began after a few minutes. "This proposal is certainly detailed, but honestly? I'm afraid I'm not quite so sure of its relevance…"

_Relevance?_ Rose gritted her teeth. It took an impressive amount of willpower to resist responding.

"Edward," said Holmes, cocking an incredulous eyebrow. "Are you really citing _relevance_ as an excuse? It's been over eleven months since the Italian Ministry declared bankruptcy. Have you seen the mess over there? Their infrastructure is in ruins, barely half of the hospitals are functioning, and the lines outside of the food banks are too long to aid! Not to mention the _violence_." Holmes paused, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "Merlin, you've read the Auror reports, haven't you?"

When Cartwright offered a guilty smile, it took all of Rose's Granger self-control to not smack her head against the table. Her mum was right about Edward Cartwright's absolute incompetence. Unfortunately, the man was phenomenal at kissing arse and Minister Turner loved it.

Holmes sighed. "Well, don't let Harry Potter hear that," he muttered.

The department head chuckled, and then, as if only just remembering Rose's presence, offered the redhead an apologetic, hopeful half-smile. Rose groaned internally.

Of _course_ she wasn't going to tell Uncle Harry. Her godfather might cry! Rose just didn't feel right doing that to the only man who'd encouraged her relationsh—well, mainly, Rose didn't think it fair because his kids (her beloved cousins) already had way too much ammo against him. Saving the Wizarding World was one thing, but being the father of three Potter-Weasleys was another matter entirely.

She gave her department head a tight smile.

"Well, why don't we just run through the key points?" he suggested, releasing a slow, relieved breath. "What have our boys discovered?"

Holmes rolled his eyes at the younger, much less experienced administrator, but to his credit, still began a thorough explanation.

The situation in Italy had become so unstable that wizards and witches had begun manipulating and stealing from Muggles for their resources—they took anything that couldn't be magicked into thin air. Undercover agents had even reported that a rising anti-Muggle group was gaining support from both the Wizarding public and Minister Ponzo's administration. It was very alarming, especially since the group's objective was to reclaim the country for the magical populace.

"And that'd be breaking the International Statute of Secrecy," said Holmes dryly. "So you can see how this might be of interest to us."

Cartwright raised a palm to stop him. "I admire your idealism, Holmes, but are we to help everyone who has problems? Think about it. We just can't. It isn't realistic."

Holmes' eyes hardened. "Both the Brotherhood—_La Fratellanza_, that's what the group calls itself—both the Brotherhood and the official Italian Ministry have been employing tactics reminiscent of the Death Eaters!" he barked. "How's that for reality?"

"Oh, so you think this will spark another Wizarding War, do you? Well maybe it will, but the Italians didn't volunteer _their_ help when we needed it! Why should we come to their aid? If the time comes—and Merlin forbid it does—but if the time comes when we do have to fight again, then we will! And we'll win, just like we did in the past, because of heroes like Miss Weasley's family. But until then, I don't see a need to involve ourselves in another country's troubles."

Bringing up her family was the last straw for Rose. She was no longer able to stomach her silence.

"_Sir_," bit out Rose, not looking at Holmes' face. She was too furious at Cartwright to care. "It's precisely because of people like my family that we have to act. Not only do we have a responsibility to the entire magical world, but we have a responsibility to those living here! You want to wait until the problem truly manifests? Well, by then, it'll be too _late_. You want to wait for the problem to come to Britain? Well, that'll mean endangering the lives of all our families and friends! That'll mean the efforts of the heroes who sacrificed their lives during the Second Wizarding War were for naught. And for what? A few extra galleons in our Gringotts accounts?"

Silence.

Rose thought she was probably going to be fired, but she didn't care anymore. Not if it meant working for men like Edward Cartwright.

"Miss Weasley, please remove yourself from my office," said Cartwright, his voice deadly calm.

"With pleasure," said Rose, storming out of the room.

She was fuming when she returned to her own office, and when the expected memo zipped in ten minutes later, she only laughed.

Not that it was funny in the slightest.

_Suspended for one month_, the note from Holmes had read. He'd apologized to her too, but Rose hardly cared at that point. She was just so _angry_. Even after she screamed at his face, Cartwright still wouldn't fire her. Her connections were too valuable, her surname too important.

But her surname had gained its reputation through unfathomable sacrifices. Not that Cartwright cared that her family members had _died_, of course. To people like him, war was just a stage with heroes and villains, and when it ended, the names of the people who survived became famous and powerful and exempt from petty things like being fired.

The irony of it all disgusted Rose. People with surnames like hers wouldn't be fired even when they criticized their bosses for being warmongering. Because to the current bureaucracy, people like her—with great names but who were young and lacked experience—people like her were meant to be seen and not heard. No, her opinions would just be ignored until another war came around, where there would be more fighting and death and heroes and new famous names to manipulate.

Rose shook her head, alarmed at the depressing turn of her thoughts. She couldn't stand to remain in the office any longer, and Apparated on the spot.

* * *

><p>In the end, Rose went back to her flat. She had just wanted to get away, but where was there to go? It was barely ten o'clock on a Friday morning. Dom was at the <em>Prophet <em>offices, Louis at Gringotts, Al at the law firm, James and Hugo at Quidditch practice… She'd considered going to see her parents, but Mum was probably swamped with work (she was the Head of the Department of Magical Law, and just so much better than Edward Cartwright could ever hope to be) and besides, Rose wasn't sure she could handle Mum's brand of slightly patronizing, if well-meaning, kind of comfort. And Dad… well, Rose loved him, but her father had about the emotional range of a teaspoon.

No, there was only one person whom Rose wanted right now, and he was entirely out of the question.

Stepping into her flat, it occurred to Rose that Dom had been exactly right. Sometimes, this place reminded her too much of _him_, and that was why she occasionally preferred to sleep in her office chair. But other times, the place that reminded her so much of the man she loved was just what she needed.

Rose glanced around the elegant, eclectically decorated space. It was the second flat they'd lived in together, but only the first that they'd bought as a couple. Rose remembered she'd fallen in love with the place the moment the realtor had unlocked the door.

She sighed, walking into the bedroom and drawing the curtains. She told herself she only stayed in the flat because she adored the view, because moving was too much of a hassle (it was convenient to overlook her magical abilities). But she knew it wasn't true. It was because of the desperate look that had overtaken his face when he'd asked her to stay—to continue living in their flat even after he moved out. And Rose felt so pathetic, but she just couldn't say no to him, not when he truly wanted something from her, not even after he broke her heart.

She climbed into the bed—its king size much too big for just herself—and buried her face into a pillow. She was so glad she'd cast that preservation charm all those months ago, because it was inexplicable but his mere scent could still comfort her. She closed her eyes, losing herself in memories.

_(Six Months Earlier)_

It was April 20th, just two days after her twenty-first birthday—it was a Saturday, and it was Rose and Scorpius' three-year anniversary.

Scorpius had planned an incredible day for them, complete with breakfast in bed, swimming and sunbathing in the Mediterranean, exploring the local flea market, and watching her favorite film at the Muggle cinema he'd recently acquired.

It had been an amazing day.

They had just returned to their flat, and Scorpius had needed to retrieve something from the bedroom. Rose was stretched out on the sofa, yawning. It'd been a long, fun, semi-exhausting day—and besides, she'd barely gotten any sleep the night before since they'd been rather occupied…

Rose suppressed a giggle. At any rate, she was getting a tad impatient—and anxious, too. She was almost positive he was going to propose tonight, and she couldn't wait to tell Dom all about it! But where _was _he?

"Rose, I need to talk to you."

She startled at Scorpius' voice. It sounded so flat—almost cold. It was nothing like the happy, loving tone he had had only minutes prior… She glanced at the envelope fisted in his hand, but her attention was quickly drawn to the hardened, almost manic look on his face.

Immediately, she moved towards him. "What's wrong, Scor?"

Her boyfriend sighed raggedly and took a step backwards, away from her. "We can't do this anymore."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm really sorry, Rose." He closed his eyes. "I just don't think this—our relationship—is going to work out."

"What are you talking about? Scorpius, what's wrong?"

"There's nothing wrong. It was fun while it lasted, but I just think that this is for the best."

Fun while it lasted? They'd been together for three _years_!

Rose wasn't really sure what was going on anymore, only that there was this rather awful feeling in her chest…

"But—but _I love you_. And I know you love me." He told her so every day, and countless times today. "Please… whatever's wrong, I know we can fix it." Rose cringed at how desperate she sounded, and she saw a flicker of emotion in his blue eyes, but it disappeared almost instantly.

"I don't love you anymore."

She stared at him. She was logically aware that her heart couldn't _physically_ break, but in that moment, the pain she felt defied all reason. "_Scor_…"

"I'm sorry, Rose. Be safe, all right? Please, take care of yourself—for your family, of course. They love you…" There, his voice seemed to falter, but he persisted: "The flat's yours. It's in your name, and I hope you can continue living here. It's about the fucking saf—" He broke off abruptly. "Just, it'd mean a lot to me, all right?"

_(Present)_

She wasn't sure if she'd nodded or maybe threw something at him. Everything about that night was blurred in her mind. Rose vaguely remembered more pleading, some quick packing, and then—Scorpius was gone.

Just like that.

She'd known him since she was eleven, loved him since she was fifteen, been in love with him since she was eighteen… and now, nothing.

Afterwards, she'd cursed herself for not doing more, for not making him explain to her exactly why he was doing this. But then it occurred to her: maybe he truly just didn't love her anymore. And if that were the case, what right did she have to demand anything of him?

Sometimes, Rose couldn't understand herself. Scorpius had broken her heart with a shitty excuse on their _anniversary_—when Rose was sure he was going to propose.

_Who did that?_ Certainly not the man she thought he was.

And yet, she still missed him.

Maybe she was messed up, too.

* * *

><p>AN: Hey, thanks for stopping by. Hopefully, this is less confusing, but _p__lease _let me know what you think! I've never attempted something like this and would so appreciate your thoughts.

Thanks,

alleaf


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